Amara’s POV
My wrists were on my lap as I sat on the healer's cot's edge. The mark continued to pulse like a second heartbeat, burning weakly beneath the skin.
Mira was talking to herself as she paced in front of me. The floor pounded in time with the old witch's staff.
Kian was sitting next to me, holding my back with a warm, steady hand. He remained close, seemingly able to stave off the horror that was rattling my bones, without saying anything.
Holding the spellbook tightly to his breast as if it were about to blow up, Rowan stood in the corner.
Nobody wanted to be the first to speak.
After a long period of stillness, Mira finally said, "Well? Get the thing open.”
Rowan winced. With his black hair falling over his eyes, he bowed his head and opened the book gently.
The pages sp
